


Technophile

by Cephy



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Community: kinkfest, Masturbation, Object Insertion, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-16
Updated: 2008-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephy/pseuds/Cephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "Guy (/fontech) – object insertion – sterile, immaculate, rational, perfect"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Technophile

Guy slipped into his room, and all but held his breath as he slid the bolt shut behind him. Not that he really thought anyone would come up after him, since he'd said-- well, he'd given some excuse. Weapons cleaning, maybe, or other equipment maintenance. Or a headache? He couldn't really remember. They hadn't questioned it, which was the important part.

Not entirely unexpected, really. Travelling so close with other people, everyone needed to make those kinds of excuses at some point. Whether it was just to be alone for a while or for-- less innocent reasons. It was just something you accepted and looked the other way.

Guy kicked off his boots by the door, rolled his shoulders as he padded across the room to kneel down next to his pack. He undid the fastenings with fingers that only shook a little, and folded back his last clean shirt to reveal the glint of metal beneath.

For all of their ability, Guy mused, the older fon machines could be surprisingly delicate-- it didn't take much for them to come apart, or maybe they just weren't designed to resist the application of brute force. It had certainly pained him to tear apart the one they'd found in the Highlands, even though he'd known it was necessary. Still. He could hardly have just left it there without pausing to look-- to mourn, maybe, because it wasn't like he'd ever see anything quite like that again. And-- well. If there happened to be a few spare parts knocked loose that could be conveniently pocketed for future study, it would've been practically a crime to leave them to rust.

The others had just rolled their eyes at him before moving away; Luke had lingered briefly, looking around like he expected the monsters to spontaneously regenerate and attack Guy while his back was turned, but a quick nudge was enough to send him following the rest towards the elevator. Which is why Guy had been alone when he found it-- and thank Yulia for that, because Jade would have teased him for life if the man had seen the look on his face at that moment.

He didn't have a-- a _thing_ for fontech. Really. All jokes aside. It was just that he'd seen-- seen _it_ lying there, and immediately made the inevitable comparisons, and his mouth had gone dry.

The object in question was smooth and cylindrical, a perfect finger of steel and wire-- except at the one end, of course, where twisted metal and dangling cables showed how it had been torn free of its casing. Guy leaned down to look at it closely-- reached to reverently pull it from his pack and then pulled the shirt out after it, using the sleeve to polish the metal free of dust. He lifted it nearly to his face, peered at the surface for scratches. Made a low sound of admiration as he examined the craftsmanship, because the metal plates on the surface fit togther without the slightest burr, sleek and smooth and flat. The joints were near perfectly smooth, with only the slightest ridge showing where the piece would bend. It was-- it was a _masterpiece_, and for a moment he could only hold it in loose fingers and marvel at the things it was possible to create.

Then, breath shallow, he fished in his pack again until he found the vial of oil, and went over to the bed. He would never say that his sex life wasn't satisfying-- not only because doing so would make Luke pout, but because it just plain _wasn't true_\-- but he found he was absolutely powerless to resist the idea once it was in his head. Powerless not to _imagine_ it, and that alone was enough to make his skin feel too tight, too hot, even before he skinned off his trousers and reached down with slickened fingers to quickly prepare himself.

Keeping a careful hold of the rough, wide end where the metal had been broken off, Guy slid it in.

He had to lie there a moment, eyes closed, shaking hard. It was different-- colder, he hadn't expected to notice that so much, and so much less forgiving than flesh, so completely unyielding. Thicker than he was used to, especially after he regained control enough to start to move it, as the the smooth ridges and indentations on its surface slid over him, into him.

He wondered, briefly-- if he could repair it, hook it up to a power source, bring it at least partly back to life again-- would he be able to feel the internal mechanisms humming and whirring through the metal skin? Could he possibly be able to make it _move_ again, joints flexing along those hair-fine seams? The thought made him squirm helplessly in place, which led him to accidentally nail himself _hard_ on that damnably wonderful spot inside, and after that he couldn't quite keep himself quiet nor could he quite keep himself from doing it again, and _again_, though he'd kind of wanted to take his time--

He came hard, teeth clenched on a shout while his vision went gray at the edges. When it cleared, he found himself lying spread across the bed, panting and still shaking-- with that hard finger of metal still lodged inside him, his fingers still clenched white-knuckled at its base. He drew another shaky breath as he pulled it out, shook out his arm with a wince-- grinned ruefully at the ceiling as he made a mental note to try a different position next time, since it really was awkward to do that to yourself.

Though-- he lolled his head to look thoughtfully at the door. If he approached it right, maybe _next time_ he could get Luke to do it for him.


End file.
